


a dream

by stelgibson



Series: universe of msr [2]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Masturbation, POV Dana Scully, Smut, UST, in which dana scully Wants, it's just dks wanting her mans from behind i have no other comment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:14:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26280976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stelgibson/pseuds/stelgibson
Summary: in which dana scully wants and dreams.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Series: universe of msr [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1909534
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	a dream

**Author's Note:**

> a drabble for you ft: you guessed it, dana scully.

He smells like oak and sweat; he tastes like salt and lust; he feels like humidity: ever present and stifling and overwhelming. The kind of humidity you can’t wait to escape, but once it’s gone, you’re left shivering and hollow, unprotected and chilled. 

He feels like clay; malleable and warm, strong after fire and being in the heat, living life at 2,000 degrees fahrenheit. He is shiny and unmarred like pottery, his profile sculpted by the gods, lips pursed and jaw jutting out. 

Sometimes she sees it in flashes: dangerous and tall and lanky, he’s stronger than walls she’s built up around herself. He’s intuitive to her moves, anticipating them before she acts, before she thinks. He’s moody and communicates too little too late. He’s in the dark: in the shadows, in the basement; removed and far far away, in his own kingdom. 

She also sees the rest of him in flashes: his appreciative up and down when she walks in, his smirks and his chuckles at her one liners. Oh, she’ll never let him know, but when he laughs at her quips, when he openly shows his desire and comfort, she feels powerful, she is the boss.

His grip on her thoughts makes her pant, imagining him slamming into her from behind, his fingers in her hair pulling her head up, her neck exposed to the light; gasping for air, gasping for contact for him him him, for him to fill her up over and over, cover her with his whole body. She feels dehydrated; like his tongue rough on her neck is the only form of water, his thumb at her clit her only source of life. She needs his narrow fingers on her throat, feeling his gentle pressure when she swallows, strong enough that her heart rate goes up but with full faith and trust in his judgement. She whimpers at the thought of him pumping into her, her muscles taut and her thighs strong, her arms shaking from holding herself up. She knows her chest will fall into the bed, her face sideways with her cheeks flushed. his hands always find their way back to home base: her tattoo. Their back and forth game of biting remarks fresh in her mind, his anger and disbelief flashing in his eyes. 

When she’s shaken from her daydream, from her fantasy, from what she knows she needs desperately from him, she feels empty. It’s always her own fingers at her clit, at her nipples, tears pricking at her eyes, looking for an end to this cyclic pattern that is their life.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so so much for reading, lmk what you think :,)


End file.
